


see how i come your way

by Hymn



Series: Hymn's Fic: The Mandalorian Collection [4]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Clit Stimulation, F/M, First Time, Hand Job, Orgasms, PLS LET ME KNOW IF I MISSED SOMETHING I REALLY SHOULD TAG FOR OKAY THANKS, PWP, Sex, Top Cara, Woman on Top, a little comeplay, because the plot is in a different fic lol, damn it, i don't know to tag for this, well ok din's is off screen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:08:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22185370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hymn/pseuds/Hymn
Summary: There’s a bit of a scuffle, one she’ll have to apologize to her downstairs neighbors for. But it ends with Din flat on his back on her bed, the pillows all knocked to the floor. She’s got her thighs pressed up under his, his legs sprawled out on either side of her waist, and one arm pressing down over his Beskar breastplate to keep him there.“Tell me you don’t want this and I stop,” Cara pants, hunched over him.
Relationships: Cara Dune/The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)
Series: Hymn's Fic: The Mandalorian Collection [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1561399
Comments: 36
Kudos: 205





	see how i come your way

**Author's Note:**

> i wanted to put porn into [that ache in your heart](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22185223) but it didn't fit! i wrote the porn anyway XD; it's late, i'm v delirious & am pretty sure i forgot how to porn at all, but well, here we are. enjoy???
> 
> (forgive the title, i am so genuinely ready for sleep lmao. from FOXTROTT's song Wide Awake)
> 
>  **edit** tweaked some stuff, added a bit. is it better? probably not lol

  
  
  
There’s a bit of a scuffle, one she’ll have to apologize to her downstairs neighbors for. But it ends with Din flat on his back on her bed, the pillows all knocked to the floor. She’s got her thighs pressed up under his, his legs sprawled out on either side of her waist, and one arm pressing down over his Beskar breastplate to keep him there.

“Tell me you don’t want this and I stop,” Cara pants, hunched over him.

She can’t see anything through that dark visor, but she can feel his body beneath hers, muscles hard. A moment and then they deliberately soften, that helmet tipping back slow with surrender. His hands stay on her hips, though, tight enough to bruise.

So she says, “Tell me you want me to.”

Din stays silent.

Cara presses harder, bearing down with her weight. It raises her up on her knees a little, jostling his legs so he’s pressed into a tighter space, held down and surrounded by her. Her free hand taps against the buckle of his belt, a taunt and a tease and a promise all in one, that it won’t go farther without his willing participation.

“Go on,” she says. “I won’t do anything you don’t want. I’m not gonna just take this because you’ll _let_ me. So tell me. Tell me you want me to.”

“Dune,” he says, voice crackling.

She waits, feeling as though she’s up in the air waiting for the drop. Waiting for that moment of free-fall where anything is possible, death or survival equally terrifying, the freedom of desperation singing through her. She wants this -- him. She’s always been greedy, especially when she can’t afford to be. 

“Yeah,” he finally says, the word slow and wounded sounding, but certain. “Yeah, Dune. I want you.”

Not what she’d expected, that _you_. 

He just keeps breaking inside her defenses, doesn’t he? Bulldozing his way in, fucking colonizing her heart with all his little kindnesses. Cara would hate him if she wasn’t already so in love with him.

\---

Not kissing isn’t actually as weird as she expected it to be. There are plenty of other ways to share intimacy, to let your partner know you want them, want to be close. Cara pulls down his cowl and licks at the skin beneath, nipping at Din’s neck while she unbuckles him, pushing down Beskar heavy pants and hysterically plain undergarments. 

“I wasn’t expecting an audience,” Din huffs when he catches her snickering.

“Neither was I,” she mocks, pulling back to wave a hand down her front, indicating the tight black shorts she’s wearing and the matching bra. “And yet _I’m_ still hot.”

“You are,” he agrees, and there’s a subtle shift to his helmet like he’s checking her out, appreciating the view.

Cara's got all her scars on display, but it doesn't sound like he's lying. Sounds, instead, as if he thinks it's a given. The satisfaction of it thrills through her, a slow creeping burn that gains speed until its roaring in her ears like a fucking maelstrom. There’s a grin gone crooked and smug on her face. Din huffs when his wandering gaze finally meanders back upward, taking in her expression. “What?” he asks. “You _are_. Don’t act like you don’t know it.”

Cara laughs; decides split second to change things up. “Keep talking like that,” she says, a little breathless. “See where it gets you.”

“Hm?”

She wiggles out from beneath his thighs. Which is a bit of a pity; she likes that position: Din beneath her, held open and off kilter by her body, thighs shifting restless against her hips. But it’s worth it to get up on her knees and shimmy out of her shorts so that the only thing she’s wearing is the bra. She can hear the harsh inhale Din takes. What is it that he sees? The stretch marks, the slightly unkempt pubic hair? The hard muscles in her thighs or the thickness of her belly?

“Fuck,” Din croaks, sounding wrecked. 

Whatever it is he's seeing, at least it sounds like he's into it. Cara stops wondering about it, the last of her inhibition and nerves seeping away. Hard to worry when Cara's too busy being delighted by Din's reactions. “Yeah,” she murmurs, “That’s it. That’s it _exactly_ , Din. You just lay there and let me have my fun.”

“Can I--?” He lifts a hand in the air, still bare. Before, when he’d been holding onto her hips, the fabric of her shorts had been between. But now, looking at that palm and all its creases, she wants more than anything to feel his skin on hers. 

“Yeah,” she says, shifting to straddle his waist. “Touch me, Din.”

From her new vantage point, she's got a good view of him: disheveled, armor all askew; the golden skin of his exposed belly and the dark hair trailing sweetly downward; the sharp cut of his hips; his hard dick, just as pretty as Cara could have asked for. She's thinking about reaching down to thumb at the soft skin of his balls, the crinkled pubic hair around the root of his erection, but--

Din touches her.

Cara has to breathe in slow, careful, staring down at where his palms sweep up her outer thighs, his thumbs pressing into the muscle on top. It probably shouldn't feel so good. Shouldn't feel like a fucking monumental occurrence is happening here, but it does, because his hands are shaking. Din touches her like she’s something precious, something he can’t believe he’s getting to lay hands on. Cara shivers, feeling the warmth of his fingers, the sweetness of his caresses. She’s so turned on now that her clit’s throbbing with it. 

“What’re you--”

“Patience,” Cara grunts, reaching down to part her labia. Din makes a choked little noise when she does, head craned awkwardly so he can see. It looks ridiculous in that helmet, but Cara’s not surprised to find she likes it. This is him, after all. There’s no world in which she’d change him, even if he’d let her.

Then she lowers herself down to straddle Din’s cock, the hot, hard length of him, all that velvety skin against her opening and her clit. The pressure feels amazing; knowing that's Din's bare cock she's sitting on makes it even better. That realization is getting to him too, Cara thinks, watching the way the Beskar shudders and bucks as his chest struggles to draw breath. She grins at him, because she can't _not_ like this. She feels powerful, wanted, _hungry_.

"You doing okay?" she asks, only slightly mocking.

Din makes a frustrated noise. "How patient do I have to be?" 

Again, Cara laughs, bright and delighted. She rocks a little in response, slicking him up. With how wet she already is it's easy, and in just a moment she’s got both hands planted above his shoulders, knees digging into the bed, her hips working in slow, rolling thrusts as she fucks against him, hissing with satisfaction every time she drags her clit against the swell of his cockhead. 

Every time his dick twitches she feels it. It’s addicting, and so is the way he sounds, bitten off groans and little shocked breaths, like he didn’t expect this to feel good, let alone as good as it does.

His hands are fluttering intermittently over her sides, fingertips tickling up her spine and dancing over the snarled ridges of scars. It's a little distracting, but Cara still likes it. Likes, also, the way he's giving himself up for her, following where she leads. Cara gives him more of her weight, turns her thrusts into a dirtier grind, something that makes Din moan. She asks, own voice gone low and dark: "Still feeling impatient?"

He pinches her hip, but weakly. More and more he's forgetting to move his hands, forgetting to do more than just jerk against her, flexing his hips to match her.

“Guess you are. Too bad, I like taking my time. And I like the way your dick looks like this,” Cara murmurs, lifting one hand to reach down, play with that swollen head flushing dark with need, every time she rocks backward, dragging her slick from head to root. She leaves him glistening, marked as hers, and she wonders if it makes his pulse race as hard as hers does to see it. Maybe she should dip her fingers down there, trace her own wetness all over the Beskar. The thought makes her mouth drop open, vision softening with desire, with how much she _wants_. All of it, she wants everything he'll give.

His hands are tight on her hips again, bruising in their desperation to hang on.

\---

She’s not sure how long she rides him for. Could be hours, could be weeks. Probably only a handful of minutes. But it feels so good and it’s been so long and Cara’s just-- she’s been so fucking tightly wound, so burdened by her own fears, that it’s the best kind of relief to let her mind go quiet as she finally gives in, chasing her own pleasure. Soon enough, though, that pleasure builds too high, twisting tight and sharp at the base of her spine, hot in her belly, and then she’s crying out and shaking above Din, grinding her clit against the hard, throbbing length of him as she comes.

“Fuck,” she whispers after, trying to catch her breath. “That was good.”

Din just groans, fingers squeezing tighter.

\---

They wind up in the same position that she started them in, her thighs folded up beneath his. But this time she’s got her forearm on the bed, beneath his neck, and she’s fogging up the Beskar of his helmet with her breath, stretched out over his body to press her cheek to his through it. He makes a wounded sound, turns his head and presses back, the steel cold against her skin.

“That’s it,” she coaxes. “Let go. Give it to me.”

His dick’s still wet from her, slick in her grip. She can't see it now, not when she's holding him like this. But she'd taken her fill moments ago, and she knows she likes the look of him wrapped up in her fingers, likes the thick weight of him against her palm. He feels good in her grasp, good in her arms. When she presses her thumb in slow circles beneath the head, Din makes a sound like a choked off whimper, and Cara thinks she could stay like this, hunched over and jerking him off for as long as he lets her, or at least until her own arm damn well falls off.

She likes giving him pleasure; likes the way his hips go restless, spine arching for more. 

Even after her orgasm, the want and desire haven't banked. She still feels bottomless, too big for her skin, so hungry for this dangerous, difficult man and his soft interior that she might go mad with it. She wants to watch him fall apart; wants to feel it against her body. Everything, Cara thinks again: I want everything.

This might’ve been a mistake, she realizes. Now that she’s had him like this, she doesn’t know if she can ever stop wanting it. But thankfully that’s not a thought for now, so Cara stops thinking it. Shuffles closer so that his ass in resting high against her thighs, folded near in half with his legs wrapping desperately around her waist, heels scrabbling for purchase. 

“Oh, fuck,” he says, sounding helpless. “Oh, _fuck_.”

“Yeah,” Cara breathes. “ _There_ we go.”

\--  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> i'll try and edit this after i get some sleep 8D;; thanks for reading <3 **edit** SORRY IF I FUCKED IT UP GUYS, I TRIED NOT TO MESS UP ANYTHING TOO BAD BUT I GET WEIRD WHEN I'M EDITING
> 
> o yeah also  
> i had to cut off din's orgasm because i had hit my limit for words. no seriously, this is what i wrote:
> 
> When he comes, he shoots so far that he gets some on his kriffing helmet. It’s possibly the hottest thing that Cara has ever seen, and she feels lazy and smug and delighted about it. Din just makes a disgusted noise and locks himself into her bathroom, too mortified to be seen until his Beskar’s all clean again.
> 
> HA


End file.
